I conjure up its silhouette in my thoughts, moulding it;

Its warmth like pinpricks in my palm,

Soft, beating, almost like a child’s – it’s so fragile.

I crush it.

Sputtering, choking in my fierce constrict

Its spasms give me assurance:

This is the love I want.

Breathing poison,

Venom from my red lips;

I kiss it.

The taste of you leaves me wanting,

Gorging on the thunder of blood in your veins.

Sated, I leave by the morning;

I love it.